-Don't forget- tonight, 8 PM! Hisa is looking forward to seeing you, and I'm sure Yukio is too! ;-)
-I don't know Mom. It's practically Christmas
-I know. I'm so sorry I'm still in Hokkaido, but that's why I think you should go out. I don't like the idea of you being all alone tonight.
-Go for me. Please, honey? You and Hisa used to be so close.
-And I always liked Yukio. If you didn't marry Seiichi, he was always my next choice!
-Please, Chiyo? For me?
Soundlessly, I pounded my forehead against my desk.
-Okay. I still have the note you wrote with the time and directions.
A series of cringey gifs and emojis immediately spammed my phone to relay Mom's euphoria. Iida- ever the fun police- scoured the room with all the magnetizing force of his glasses, looking for the culprit.
If only I could sic him on Mom.
"Okay, pencils down!"
The final hour of class before Winter Break was upon us and it showed; immediately the students wilted, sighing and cheering and carrying on, passing their last exam towards the front with triumphant brandishes. I could barely contain my own pep, just excited to sleep for the next seven beautiful, uninterrupted days.
You know, aside from the festive mixer Mom was all but guilting me into attending, tonight, hopeful my eyes would meet with Yukio Matsui's and we would simultaneously fall into deep, all-encompassing love, where he would then proceed to ask me out, sweep me off my feet, and proceed to erase every last one of my worries by working for the both of us so I could stay home and raise two perfect, quirkless children.
"Does- Has anyone been feeling under the weather?"
Half of Class 1-A blinked back at me. A blush crawled into my embarrassed skin. You can't try and infect yourself, jackass. "Er, never mind. Well, I hope everyone has a wonderful break! Be sure to work on your observation sheets; I look forward to seeing how your reflections have changed since the beginning of the year."
Freedom rang. The students shouted victory calls. I fell back into my chair, exhausted.
"Miss Tsutomi?"
Momo Yaoyorozu idled in the doorway, looking more nervous than she ever did when it came to academics. The hallway behind her continued to roar with the end of the school term and muted whatever she was quietly rambling. I ignored my groaning joints and threw myself from the chair once more.
"What's up, Momo?"
Up close, I realized her fidgeting hands were fidgeting over a figure- one wearing clothes and a hairstyle suspiciously like my own, with a ribbon looped to a hook on the back of her dress.
The surprised teenager nearly entered the stratosphere when I grabbed on to her arms with a squeal that put even Present Mic to shame.
"Momo" I choked. "Momo Yaoyorozu. Did you make me into a Christmas ornament?"
"I- Um, yes? If you don't like it- I'm sorry, I didn't think-"
"This is the singular greatest gift I've ever received."
I continued to defy logic by yanking the far-taller girl into my arms, practically sobbing. "You made this? With your quirk?" Why even train to be a hero when she literally could be- or make- anything? My amazing, thoughtful students, whose potential was only matched in kindness. "Momo, you're brilliant. I'll dance at your wedding. No, scratch that- no human alive will ever be good enough for you."
The head snuggled under my own let out a laugh. I squeezed her one last time before releasing the poor kid from my grasp, holding the offered gift in tentative hands, grin like an orange slice.
"Seriously, don't ever get married. It's a giant trap."
"Speaking from experience, Tsutomi?"
No.
And my day was going so well.
A frumpled waif of darkness leaned against the opposing classroom door, watching me between layers of hair, scarf, and disdain.
Shota Eraserbreath Aizawa, Class 1-A's homeroom teacher and the general bane of my existence.
We'd had a few run-ins, from an awkward rendezvous in the park where I'd found there might be a glimmer of attractiveness under all that hobo, to a rainy afternoon ending in a kiss, but then there was The Conference.
The conference where he told me I was generally pathetic and not worth my weight in water, let alone as a teacher, or coworker, or what the hell ever.
I wish I could say I ignored him; I wish I could say I had some clever remark that left him speechless.
But in this particular dimension, I was not some femme fatale. I was Chiyo Tsutomi, blushing idiot extraordinaire, who wouldn't know a good comeback if it walked up and slapped me across the face.
No way! You can do this! Inner Chiyo chanted. Don't let this prick get the best of you!
My spine straightened with fierceness. His eyebrows rose when I met his eye.
"No one's had the pleasure of wifing me yet, but that might all change tonight." I said.
What. The. Hell.
Regulation picked up the slack when Inner Chiyo passed out cold, dumbstruck by the sheer, tangible absurdity of what just came out of my mouth. Wifing me? And tonight, really? I had a better chance of becoming a professional hero than having someone fall for a jackass like me, let alone wanting to marry me. Especially over the course of mixer my fucking mom was promoting.
I waved off Yaoyorozu with a forced smile. She all but sprinted down the hallway, thankful to get away from the teacher-on-teacher drama.
Maybe he'll let it drop. It's not like he knows what's happening tonight.
But Aizawa's eyebrows had practically disappeared and there was a maddening sort of half-smile on his lips, posture uncoiling in interest.
No. No, nope, nein.
Fleeing proved useless. He followed me right into my classroom like a stalking shadow.
"No one's had the pleasure of wifing you, huh?" His voice practically dripped with sarcastic amusement. "Are you so keen to become property, Tsutomi? So...domestic. Though, I suppose wifedom would finally give reason for your...attire."
What the hell is wrong with my attire? I paused in my hurried packing to assess myself. It was a swing dress, sure, but I'd thought the red and black flannel pattern was festive. Seasonal. What did he expect, for everyone to dress like him?
Ridiculous- ridiculous. Who the hell would ever take fashion advice from someone who wore a sleeping bag every other day?
...Though, maybe something a little spicier would be better for tonight.
"No response?" He lazily called as I rushed past him. Maybe the velvet dress? But what shoes? Did mom mention a dress protocol?
"So what's tonight?"
I stopped so abruptly he ran into me, quickly withdrawing when I turned to glare. "Are you going to follow me all the way home, or what? Don't you have some juice box to suck on?"
This was a miscalculation. I was too close; close enough to breathe in the mysterious pine and pencil smell of him. I stood my ground all the same, until he lifted a hand dangling a ring of keys from one crooked finger.
"The faculty parking lot isn't your own private zone, Tsutomi. And, seeing that we're both faculty, I presumed even you would be able to know where we would both be headed-"
I stalked off before the rest of his words could burn themselves into my face.
Like clockwork, his steps followed me.
"So, what is tonight?"
Did he ever give up? "I have a date." Not technically a lie. Still, he did have a way of figuring me out. I added, "I'm going to a party, where I'll be meeting up with some friends from high school-"
"Your special non-quirk school?"
If I killed him, I'd have to deal with cleaning up a crime scene, and these were my good shoes.
"Yes. There's a boy- a man, and I hope we'll reconnect tonight."
I dropped my own keys, surprised at myself. Did I mean that? No, surely that was just Mom talking. Right?
"So, what, you'll go on this date and end up happily ever after?" Aizawa proved his deftness by swiping the keys off the ground before I could even bend over. My spine slumped all the same.
"Is it so unbelievable to think someone could fall in love with me?"
The question left me more exposed than intended, allowed those slate irises to strip me bare.
"No," He said quietly. "It's not."
The weight of my keys ground the moment in reality. In Shota Aizawa's short inhale and quick getaway, cutting a streamlined path back towards the school.
His car was in the parking lot- not technically a lie.
He just hadn't walked out here to see it.
With his parents up north, his friends too exhausting, and a female-shaped vacancy in his life, the holidays were a particularly unexciting time for Shota Aizawa.
He could make the train trip up or swig a few beers to ease into Yamada and Kayama's level of brainspace, but then how many hours, minutes, and precious seconds would be wasted- time he could be spending unconscious?
As for the vacancy, well.
He practically dug a deeper grave every time he simply looked in her direction.
A chill had roamed across the city sometime this morning. Windows full of merry lights and even merrier people fogged with condensation, distorting them all into a nauseating swirl of color.
Aizawa pulled his collar closer to block out the sight and quickened his pace.
He hadn't meant to antagonize her. In all honesty, he had wandered into the hallway in order to thank her.
Dark hair combed back with a sprig of green and holly, wearing a baffling dress ripped right out of a 60's magazine, Chiyo Tsutomi looked like UA's own Christmas spirit and had acted like it, too. Each and every faculty member had found a remarkably thoughtful gift waiting on their desk this morning; Quikrete for Cementoss, slippery elm tea for Yamada, a seemingly-innocent floral pillow for Kayama that, upon closer scrutiny, was covered in scrupulous obscenities.
And, on his desk, a singular bottle of eyedrops.
He found the slight appropriate; they were barely on speaking terms, so why would she bother with anything costing more than a candy bar?
Besides, he'd thought while twisting the cap off and closing one eye, this is a useful gift. What more could I want?
Until the drop fell, and he found the liquid wasn't polyethylene glycol or glycerine or even mineral water- it was something else, something other, drenching his parched eyes in a cooling agent so soothing he'd nearly gasped. The sensation was so glorious he didn't know whether to thank her or kiss her or both.
But seeing as she saw him as the equivalent of a bad hangnail, Aizawa chose the only plausible option of walking across the hall to thank her.
And then he'd ruined even that.
He had been in a bog of animosity- towards their conversation, whomever her supposed date was with, but mostly towards himself- when his phone rang.
"Shota?"
Her voice, no matter his age, was an anchor into calm waters.
"Hi, Mom."
"Shota, there's a bit of a crisis at the shelters right now," She never was one for small talk. Probably where I get it from. "We all tried to establish a night of giving- bagging and taking supplies to fostering parents, especially those who have trouble getting out on their own- but many shelters weren't able to acquire enough volunteers before tonight. Could you go down to the one nearest you and see if they need assistance?"
Bagging dog and cat food on a Friday night. What an exciting life professional heroes lived.
It's not like I have anything better to do.
"Sure, Mom."
"Good boy," She said, like he was some gangly twelve year-old boy she could still pat on the head. Though, regardless of his several growth spurts, he knew she would still try to this day. "I'm sure you're busy with UA and the next generation of heroes, but try and spend some time unwinding over break. Oh, and Shota," He could practically hear her smile and tensed in preparation. "Try and make up with that girl, hm? I'd like to see a grandchild before I'm, you know. Dead."
And with that she hung up, leaving her son both speechless and distracted.
So distracted, in fact, that none of his typical sensory organs picked up on the signs and sounds of another person shuffling towards him, their arms heavy with bags too high to see over.
Only at the sound of someone's sharply drawn breath did Aizawa awaken, arms chasing after the crash victim before they splintered on the icy sidewalk.
That they was a she, body soft and curved like an hourglass under a thin peacoat, dark curls splaying across him as she clumsily tried to catch herself in his arms. The scent of bright florals, of warm skin and lotion and maybe gardenia, electrified his blood almost more than the wide eyes of Chiyo Tsutomi drinking him in.
Her face was sharper, angled in some areas and shiny in others, emphasizing the apples of her cheeks, the slight upturn of her eyes. Her lips were colored like strawberries, and his stomach grumbled for a taste.
"Oh," Aizawa said.
"You." Chiyo hissed.
He staggered back in shock. For a brief moment, he almost thought his mom set this up, implored some deity to bring the only girl her son had ever mentioned right into his arms. Impossible.
"Impossible?" Chiyo repeated, incredulous. Shit, had he spoken out loud? "Impossible is being a professional hero with the ego of a planet and yet still not having the common sense to walk on the right side of the sidewalk."
Chiyo flurried about him, collecting the scattered parcels. Her heels tapped with each step, knocking him into action. She made no motion to stop him from filling his arms with her cargo as well.
"What are you, a postal worker?" Aizawa asked, supposing skipping over their encounter was better than the argument that would surely ensue. The packages were heavy, varying from one cumbersome shape to the next. How had she even been able to carry all these? "What's with all the packages?"
This, oddly, brought a flush to her cheeks. "I'm doing a little volunteer work-"
"At the shelter?"
Her reddening face gave a flustered little nod. The embarrassment now made sense; it was the shelter she'd spied him entering weeks before, when she thought herself so sneaky while stalking him.
Aizawa chose not to remind her and called them even.
"I was headed there, actually," Chiyo froze, wary despite his casual tone. "Are there more deliveries to be made, or did you take enough for a small army?"
"I didn't want to make two trips, so I took the rest."
No point in going to the shelter, then. He turned one of the bags doubtlessly holding cat treats over in his hands. "Can I help you?"
Chiyo seemed thoroughly surprised by the offer, and he hated himself for it.
She opened her mouth before remembering herself, shaking off the lack of manners. "Um, yeah. That'd be great, actually."
He reorganized the pile and took the entire burden, regardless of her protests. "You guide us, I'll be the muscle."
Her little grin nearly squeezed his heart dry, dust scattered when she playfully punched his arm.
Every opened door greeted them with cheers and gifts of hot chocolate and cookies, tours of Christmas decor and countless, heartfelt thank-yous. Chiyo blushed at every single one.
"It's nothing, really," She would say, hands held up in surrender. "He's the one doing all the real work."
Which wasn't true- if he'd been delivering these alone, each occupant would've found them on the doorstep without so much as a knock in notification. Like he'd said, he was just the muscle.
They worked in tandem for an hour or so, until Chiyo asked for a break at a cafe where she bought him black coffee and a cinnamon bun so overwhelmingly iced it might as well have been a doughnut.
She picked off pieces with her fingers rather than a fork, magicked them away into that strawberry mouth without spilling a crumb.
"So," She broke first, eyes like a slying fox. "Is this your idea of an ideal Friday night?"
"I've been introduced to more than a dozen cats and am now drinking coffee with a pretty girl- what's not ideal about this situation?" He said, genuinely curious. Chiyo startled before she could reign in her emotions, and a smile dimpled one half of Aizawa's face. Chiyo slowly lowered one hand over the rim of her water glass.
"Stop it."
His smile grew in one corner. "Stop what?"
"That," She pointed at him, a sticky piece of dough between her fingers. "Don't be charming. Don't try and woo me into liking you again."
Woo her? He could barely keep himself from falling apart at her feet half the time, and she didn't even know it. That alone drew a chuckle out of him.
The water glass, unsupervised, began to levitate as Chiyo took in the sound of his laughter. She slammed the glass back down before rising to her feet.
"I'm not going to sit here and fall into one of your logical deceptions so you can make just fun of me again."
He caught her hand as she stormed past, alarm quickening his pulse. "Chiyo, wait. I wasn't meaning to-" A bubble of truth almost spilled out of him. He sighed. "I'm sorry. Please, sit down."
She did, but reluctantly. Aizawa thanked his mother's deity for there still being some icing left on Chiyo's plate, otherwise he was sure she would've left for good.
"You're doing it again," She growled at his smile.
"I know, I'm sorry," He looked away, even as her expression volleyed into something sweeter. "I hadn't meant to eavesdrop, earlier. I was actually coming to thank you for the gift."
"The eyedrops?" She sat up, interested. "Did they work?"
Does that imply she didn't think they'd work? What was the alternative? "Yes, very much so. Thank you again."
Chiyo looked pleased. He watched her for a moment, then, "Where did you get them?"
"I made them."
"You...made them?"
She held up her hands, wiggled her fingers at him. "Water quirk, remember?"
Mm. A water quirk you don't use. "How did you make them?"
"You don't want to know," By the looks of her smirk, he believed her. "You ready? We still have six more residencies, and it's already eight."
Ah, her date. Aizawa followed after her. "Is that why you look like that?"
Chiyo eyed him, again with caution. "Look like what?"
Beautiful. He gestured at her face with his own. "All that make-up."
Did she deflate, just then? Was she hoping for him to say something else?
"Yes."
"So it's still on, then?"
Chiyo hummed her answer, swiveling as she opened the door for him. The next apartment complex was in desperate need of repair, with twitching fluorescents and a mildewy sort of smell. Carpet two decades past expiration filed down the hallways, to a door Chiyo rapped on with a nervous sort of inflection. Aizawa stepped closer to her. Chiyo didn't seem to mind.
An elderly woman no taller than Chiyo opened the door, silver hair in curlers and a cat in her arms. A choked sort of sound gurgled out of the woman next to him.
"Hello?"
"Hi! Hi?" Chiyo was a livewire of nerves all of a sudden, springing forward before realizing this might scare the elderly lady, hands binding themselves together to not reach out and hug her. "We're here with the shelter, delivering goods for the season!"
"Oh!" The woman touched her face in surprise before looking between the two of them. Aizawa held up a bag of cat food to further affirm their reasoning. This was a rather unseemly place, and what if she was hard of hearing? Chiyo might not be threatening, but a six foot man wearing mostly black clothing probably wasn't the most comforting sight.
"My, I never have visitors! Please excuse my hair," She patted the curlers with a chuckle. "Please, would you like to come in?"
Chiyo hesitated for all of two seconds, thinking of her date, before answering. "Of course!"
She gave him a helpless shrug before mouthing, I'll buy you more coffee.
Despite the hallway's complexion, the woman- Nana, she insisted they call her- lived in a tidy apartment, filled with trinkets of her life, from a refrigerator littered in vacation magnets to paintings on every wall, signed in what Aizawa assumed was her own name.
In minutes he and Chiyo were snug on a loveseat, mugs of tea in hand and a fat, purring cat in the latter's lap, pointedly staring at Aizawa as if in challenge.
Wouldn't you like to be me? He seemed to sneer.
"Such a lovely cat," Chiyo said, oblivious.
"Diana," Nana said with a nod. "She's my most recent foster. You're both from the shelter, you said?"
"Yes ma'am."
Chiyo ignored the side eye aimed at her pristine manners. The elderly woman nodded again, this time with a pat against her cheek.
"My, how fortunate the shelter is to have such nice volunteers these days. Are you two foster parents, too?"
Nerves seized them both. Luckily, regulation never seemed to fail Chiyo in times of need. "Oh, no, ma'am. We're not- We just work together."
Nana eyed them knowingly. Chiyo quickly continued. "Were you married, before?"
"No, no." Nana chuckled, and the curlers bounced along with her. "I chose adventure. And I don't regret it, except on these lonely sort of nights." She smiled. "But then I'm graced with the good luck of visitors, such as yourself, and then it's not lonely at all, is it?"
Nana regalled them with tales of the Amazon, of being a trailblazer in a time of men and little empathy. Chiyo sat glued to the edge of her seat, arms growing slowly fiercer around Diana until the cat let out a hiss and Chiyo stumbled back into her male companion. She blinked, as if seeing him reminded her of what they were supposed to be doing, rather than the snuggly event they were currently doing, and expressed their need to get back to business, promising to visit again before the year was over.
And Aizawa believed her.
The real question was whether she would drag him along, too.
They continued on for a while, comfortably silent. The chill had moved on to full on cold, biting at their cheeks like an angry lover. He was about to offer his coat over when Chiyo announced; "I'm going to die a spinster."
Aizawa nearly tripped over himself. "What? You mean intentionally?"
"No," She said. "Not necessarily."
"So...Because you'll never get married?"
"Yes."
"Well, Nana sure seemed content enough."
"Nana is a complete bad ass. We share zero qualities."
Debatable, he thought, recalling their penchant for cats, curls and a collection of oddities. "Would you care to clarify?"
Chiyo sniffed, wiped at her nose while checking their list of addresses again. "It's simple, really: I'm neurotic, and over analytical. I'm never happy with anything. Eventually I'll meet someone who by all means meets the qualifications of being a good choice and then proceed to find reasons why I should say no. And by the time I finally stop acting like that, it'll be too late," She snapped her fingers. "I'll be an old, pruny little spinster, ready to spend my days complaining about technology and the youth."
His eyes nearly surveyed his brain. "You're not going to die a spinster, Tsutomi."
"You don't know that," She said, indignant. "You can erase quirks, not see the future."
"I don't need to see the future to know you won't die a spinster."
"What makes you so sure?"
He had no interest in stroking her ego by answering that. Instead, he changed tactics; "Have you ever considered that the qualifications of a good choice might be, I don't know, a little too low of a standard to hit?" The boxes were starting to build an ache in his arms. Chiyo took notice and wordless plucked the top two off the diminished pile, attuned to his mannerisms. "Maybe you've never been happy with anything because you were never with anyone who made you happy."
Chiyo didn't answer. Or look at him, for that matter. He'd just begun to accept his fate of being her lifetime nemesis when she spoke again, after their second to the last delivery; "Have you ever been happy? Like really happy. In a relationship, I mean."
He'd been happy kissing her, before. She was very kissable. "I don't know," He answered.
Chiyo's brain began to fry like an egg on the sidewalk; he could practically smell it. With a sigh he backtracked over to her.
Those seascape eyes widened into moons when he gently wrapped half his scarf around her neck, careful to not crush her curls. His fingers grazed her neck and he jumped.
"Chiyo, you're burning up,"
He took her face into his hands. The underglow of her skin warmed him to the bone, like a current carrying him into summer. The blooming of color in her cheeks did nothing to change the temperature beneath his fingers, though his own increased a few degrees. He felt, more than saw, her swallow.
"I'm always this warm. It's- I think it's because of Submersion," She said, voice soft. "Because of my quirk."
Gently, Chiyo covered his hands with her own, brought them together with a crooked attempt at a smile. "You, meanwhile, are freezing."
A peculiar warmth spread through his chest when she brought their hands to her lips, though it had nothing to do with the breath she used to heat his frozen fingers.
"That's...really unsanitary," He said lamely.
"What, are you afraid I have cooties?"
"No."
Her devious smile was enough to strike him dead.
"I'll let you hold my hand to keep warm if you promise not to let it go to your head."
I was one hour past the party's start time, but no one showed up right on the nose, right?
Mom's note was creased almost past recognition. Eventually Aizawa snatched it from my wringing hands and hid it in his back pocket.
Like it mattered; I had it memorized.
"A pub?" His judgment was palpable. "You think you're going to fall in love with some guy in a pub?"
I breathed in through my nose, out through my puckered mouth. "I wouldn't expect you to understand. I'm sure all your lovers come from some bombshell hero agency. Or a catalog."
Again with that chuckle. I gave a furtive glance around, making sure the sparse snow remained flat on the ground. All good.
The white-grey capturing weapon proved delightfully warm. Reluctance turned my fingers sluggish as I unwound it from my neck. "Thank you, for letting me wear this." I brushed off my coat, readjusted my hair one final time. "Okay. Be honest: do I look okay?"
My strange coworker roamed my features with his eyes, never looking farther than my face. "Yes, but-"
Like with the scarf, I went completely still when he drew close. The gentle pressure of his fingers on my chin accompanied the swipe of his thumb across my cheek. He eyes crinkled, just slightly.
"You've had frosting by your mouth ever since we left the cafe."
My eyes all but bugged out of my head. "And you let me walk all around town looking like that?"
Aizawa shrugged but didn't look away, boyish in his shamelessness. I looked to the pub for a distraction.
"Okay. Well. Wish me luck."
"Good luck," He said, without his usual hint of sarcasm.
I didn't look back when I walked away; I couldn't.
Because if I did, I wouldn't be able to leave him.
Shota Eraserheart Aizawa was a snide, egotistical jackass who poked spurs into my sides on a regular basis, but just as often made me feel like there was no breathable air outside of his personal space, as if he provided the only habitable atmosphere on this planet. I felt more relaxed bantering with him over ideal cat breeds than I did practicing regulation. He was snide, bitterly sarcastic beyond reason, but quietly kind. Never once had I ever questioned whether he cared about others; that much was obvious just from how much effort he put into our students, or how he showed attention to every single animal we encountered in our deliveries tonight.
But then he could shut me down just as quickly, tell me I was wasted talent and potential. Ignore me for days on end, like I didn't matter. Like I wasn't worth his time.
Maybe Mom's right. Maybe I should just let him go.
The pub was a swirl of twinkling lights and laughter.
Maybe Yukio is the right path.
"Chiyo!"
Arms nearly strangled the life out of me. No matter how many years had passed, the sharp amber of Hisa's perfume cut me like a knife. I laughed, awkward, and she pulled away with a sympathetic smile.
"Chi-chi, I'm sorry. I forgot how you bruise like a peach," She pinched me anyway, then watched for an instantaneous reaction. Hisa never did paid much attention in science class. Why would she? She was the prettiest girl in our grade, the one to be asked to prom every year, win the pageants, the whole nine yards. We were only bunched in the same friend group because of our mothers, not out of shared popularity status. Or looks, for that matter.
"Hisa, it's great to see you-"
"Chiyo, what are you wearing?"
My coat disappeared seconds later, snatched off by Hisa's prying hands, while my own went to cross over my chest. I had indeed gone with the red velvet dress, long-sleeved and off the shoulder. Cut a little too low for my liking, honestly, but not dangerous. Daring, maybe, coupled with the tightness around my waist and hips.
Hisa's scrutiny went on for ages, a long-nailed finger pressed up against her chin. Finally, she nodded.
"Definitely one of your better choices. I'm jealous how you can wear low cut tops like that- it's a bitch when you have a C cup or larger."
Kill her. Just kill her. A dangerous voice breathed in my ear. I plastered a smile on instead. "Thanks! Sorry I'm late, I had to-"
"Why are you apologizing to me?" Hisa laughed. "If anyone, you should apologize to Yukio. This whole couples party was his idea."
So he is here, my brain processed, long before couples party blinked across like a yellow caution stripe.
I shook my head once, twice, but the words still remained. "Couples party?"
Hisa barely registered me speaking, too busy surveying the room for pretty much the last person I now wanted to see. "Damn it, where is he? I told him I'd be waiting for him under that row of mistletoe, but that was ages ago,"
Ages ago, as in they were kissing ages ago? Or that she sat under there and he never showed up? Then again, what did it matter? I didn't want to be here. I don't think I ever did; this just further affirmed that.
"Hisa, it's really not a big deal. I think I should probably-"
"What? No, it is a big deal."
Her talons nearly sank into my soft tissue. I reflexively slapped her grip off with submersion and she jumped. "Geez, what the hell was that? Anyway, you have to see Yukio. We're wearing matching sweaters."
"Oh?" I said weakly.
Hisa grinned her pageant winning smile, nose wrinkle and all. "Well duh, we came together."
If there was a god, they'd smite me right here, right now.
In a slightly-less dramatic event, Hisa caught sight of her beloved and simultaneously forgot about me. I considered pulling a Yaoyorozu and just sprinting the hell out of the building, but a peek of my coat hanging on an overstuffed rack caught my eye, and I planned my escape accordingly.
My guardian angel turned out to be the devil, because halfway across the room the smiling, handsome face of one Yukio Matsui appeared out of my best daydream, accompanied by my worst nightmare of Hisa on his arm, matching sweaters and all.
Yukio wasn't just some boy from high school- he was my longest lasting crush, with his bright sapphire eyes and full-lipped smile, deceitfully polite despite his athletic abilities. I'd only ever spoken a handful of words to him in high school.
I had very little intention of adding to that now.
"Chiyo," He said, in that warm, genuinely-happy-to-see-you-because-I'm-actually-a-human-Labrador voice. "I'm so happy you were able to make it!"
I did my greatest impression of a duck having a stroke in response, caught between a laugh and trying to back out of this entire situation. Hisa's bob practically shimmered in glee.
Why did I come here? Why on earth did I just stay home?
"Yukio!" My voice was three thousand octaves too high. I swallowed, tried again. "It's good to see you, too!"
"We caught up earlier," Hisa explained to no one's prompt, unwilling to be left out of even in introductions. Yukio smiled at her before turning back to me.
"You're working at UA, right?"
"Er, yeah," Why had I worn this stupid dress? For him? No, because Eraserbreath made me feel prudish before. Why on earth would you ever allow a man's opinion to impact your decisions? Never again- never again. "How did you know I worked at UA?"
"Hisa told me, actually!" He smiled at her again. This time she didn't return the gesture. "We were both taken by surprise, honestly. You know, given-"
"Yeah," I finished quickly, realizing they were still under the impression I possessed no quirk. No wonder Hisa was freaked out before.
"Well, I'm just proud of how well our class is doing. I've taken up residency at Seibo Hospital in Tokyo, training under one of their top surgeons. And Hisa, she's-"
"Chiyo knows, silly," Hisa cut in with an impatient smile. "We're friends on social media."
I didn't know, actually. I deleted most of my social media accounts eons ago. She hadn't even noticed I hadn't posted in nearly two years. Why would she?
And then, finally, the poised viper struck. "So, Chiyo! Where's your date?"
I had a few options here: lie through my teeth, claim he was tied up or in the bathroom, like in the old shows Mom and I used to watch before bed, or fess up and admit I hadn't known this was a couple's party and had, for all intent and purposes, come here and sweep Yukio Matsui off his petite feet.
Which might result in Hisa actually murdering me, quirk or not.
I licked my lips, forgetting about my lipstick, stalling for a better excuse. Hisa's pert little nose pinched even cuter.
"Oh, Chi-chi! Don't tell me you came alone!"
An awkward lull in the music allowed her voice to carry way farther than our intimate space squished between partygoers and random drunks alike.
And I could handle that, if not for the sudden, overbearingly sincere sympathy Yukio's baby blue eyes suddenly looked down at me with.
This is it. It's been a good run. The first death by humiliation in three, two, one-
"Sorry I'm late."
Two things happened at once- a hand grazed across my waist and found home against the velvet, tugging me into a surprising embrace that angled my head right for his lips to find my temple, and Hisa Sinaku's jaw dropped to the floor.
Slate-grey eyes found mine, half a dimple pocking the cheek opposite our audience. The sound of the pub disappeared for a fraction of a second. The air I couldn't find outside of his atmosphere filled my lungs with pure oxygen at last.
He turned to the sweater-wearing couple with the sort of smile poets wrote entire books about.
"I'm Shota Aizawa. You might know me as Eraser Head."
I wanted to take Hisa's picture, crystallize it, and inject it directly into my veins.
"You're- a hero? Really? A professional hero?"
Ah, so that's what I look like, I thought, watching her mimicking my earlier meltdown. Only I have the good decency to keep my mouth closed while I do it.
"I'm not in the top ten of Japan or anything," He answered with all the modesty of a goldfish. Fingers pinched into my waist, tickling. "But yes. I work at UA with Chiyo."
"That's- wow. Wow." Yukio shook his head with a disbelieving grin. "The shy bookworm, now teaching the books. And dating a professional hero." He elbowed his date. "You could learn something, huh Hisa? She's studying to be a teacher too, did you know?"
"Of course she knows- we're friends online," Hisa snapped.
Aizawa looked at me, surprised, and I knew the final blow was about to be had.
"You don't have any social media accounts, do you?"
It felt mean- almost as mean as the time Hisa told me the wrong time for our double date, or the time she told half the school I didn't have a dad, or the time she convinced me to break up with my boyfriend because he was cheating on me.
Turns out, he was cheating with her.
I looked her dead in the eye and smiled, chipped tooth and all.
"No. I haven't in years."
And with that, I tugged the only friend I had in the entire pub to the other side of the room.
"Holy shit," I breathed.
"Holy shit," Aizawa agreed, eyes finally taking in my attire.
His hand was still on my waist; I put a hand on his arm, keeping it there. "Shota Aizawa, you are an actual fucking hero."
"Is this- you were wearing this under that coat? This whole time?" He threw a glance out the nearest window. "Tsutomi, it's nearly below freezing-"
"Water quirk, remember?" I swatted away this line of useless conversation. He caught said hand, pulled me closer to imitate dancing. Did people dance at these things? I found I didn't care, not even a little.
"How did you know? And your clothes- where's your scarf? Your ninja belt?"
"The note I took from you earlier. It clearly said couples party, hosted by- and I'm going on a limb here- that atrociously dressed couple you were shell shocked in front of." His eyebrows rose a margin. "That him?"
"Who?" Why was it so hard to concentrate? Why did he look so much more handsome? "You put your hair up! Er, sorry, that was kind of a stupid this to say- obviously you know your hair is up-" I took a quick breath. His lips twitched. "That was Yukio, yeah. He's the- yeah."
Aizawa hummed. I laughed.
"He's really not that bad." He hummed again, this time to voice an opinion. Again, I chuckled. "It seems stupid now, obviously. In retrospect. My mom was so gung ho about it, and I-"
"Your mom?" He interrupted. My head bounced with a nod, grimacing at the stiff limbs now working against mine.
"She's out of town, and didn't want me spending every break day eating my weight in junk food and sleeping till two."
"AM?"
Color grew ivy fingers up his neck with my look. "Two PM, Shota. If two AM is late for heroism, I'm glad to be a normie."
"A normie?"
The ivy crept a little higher at my grin. "Normal people, such as myself."
"Are you insinuating you're normal?"
"Are you insinuating I'm not?"
His sigh breathed across the planes of my face, unwilling to answer. "So Yukio's the hot ticket, huh? But he's dating Hisa?"
I shook my head. "I don't think so. I bet she asked him to the party and he- being the nice guy he is- said yes, because that's just his way." I leaned in, conspiratorial. "She said she was waiting for him under a row of mistletoe, but I don't think he ever showed."
"You mean that row?"
It was actually quite beautiful, strewn into one giant section of the pub's low rafters, directly over our heads.
"Oh," I said, and then he kissed me.
She tasted of icing.
Sweet, languid on the tongue, melting into him. Without thinking his hand moved from hers to touch the warm, gentle curve of her neck, the other still buried in the velvet of her waist.
He couldn't help it; she was beautiful, and too kind for her own good, probably, and worth more than every single person in this damn joint put together, himself included.
The feel of her hands on his face, keeping him close, was enough to break him.
He kissed her until the ache for her filled every pore, consumed him so entirely he thought he might catch flame. Her lips parted and teased him, drew him in without care who saw.
"Oh," She said again, softly.
His fingers trembled. He hoped she would think it was from the cold.
"I sincerely doubt he'll leave you over here, now," He said.
And with that, pulled out of her arms and left her behind.
If my heart survived the violent thrashing tonight was giving it, it'd be a god damned miracle.
I watched, punchdrunk, as Shota Aizawa walked until he reached the exit, out into the frost without a single glance back.
What?
Why would he- how could he? How could someone kiss someone like that and just walk away? A thousand hornets embedded their angry points into my lungs, ripped me so full of holes breathing became impossible.
"Chiyo?"
Who kissed like that? Had I ever been kissed like that?
"Chiyo?"
Maybe you've never been happy with anything because you were never with anyone who made you happy.
"Chiyo!"
"What?"
I hadn't meant to scream it, but by Ectoplasm's peg leg, I needed a moment to just think.
Alarm filled Yukio's soft face. Of course. Because in what reality would shy, quiet, timid little bookworm Chiyo Tsutomi shriek at the top of her lungs, especially at her school's all-star golden boy?
"Chiyo, I saw what happened. Are you- Is everything okay?"
He put a hand on my arm. I contemplated twisting it off his stupid play doh body.
"Chiyo, I'm so sorry-"
What had it meant? What the hell had that kiss meant? It couldn't be for the sake of some idiot plant; if it was, I'd fill my entire classroom with it, just to bring him back to me.
"-I would never, ever leave you so distraught-"
Something clicked in my brain.
I sincerely doubt he'll leave you over here.
"Prick," I breathed.
"Pardon me?" Yukio exclaimed.
Where was my coat? Forget the fucking coat. "Yukio, thanks for inviting my mom- er, me. It was great- such a fun time, really, but- I have to go. Now. Right now."
Like Hisa, he tried to catch my arm before I could flee.
Like Hisa, he jumped back in surprise when submersion nearly slapped his own hand across his silly face.
Which way did he go?
His scarf and belt must be around here somewhere. I slapped my palms against the concrete, frostbite be damned, and concentrated on the most infuriating heartbeat I'd ever felt in my life.
He was a safe bet for her.
Quirkless, handsome, simple. She would have him wrapped around her finger in ten minutes, tops, and live the sort of safe, protected life he knew she craved.
The sort of life he lived- that Chiyo-shaped vacancy he had- wasn't conducive with her. She needed unquestionable safety to feel safe and someone who wore their feelings for her freely and proudly, rather than under layers of anxiety and defensive barriers, distrustful of the world and its dangers towards such tender emotion.
He had the kiss- one last kiss, to be savored and dreamed of continuously, as her path diverted.
This is what's best, he thought.
"Hey, asshole!" Someone snarled.
Shota Aizawa's already-numb face took a direct hit of half-frozen snow, pitched expertly by a shoeless, raging dragon in a red velvet dress, her hair practically floating in waves of fury.
"Chiy-"
Another rock-hard snowball pelted him; this time, in the groin. He fell to his knees, breathless, barely able to defend himself as she stalked closer, arm already rising like a catapult.
"Who the hell do you think you are?"
"Chiyo, I-"
Her aim rang true, filling his mouth with cold slush. "Shut up! I don't want to hear it! You think you kissed me for my own good, huh? To get that loser to approach me?"
Even in his growing, frozen pain, Aizawa did relish her shitting on Yukio. "I-"
"You don't kiss people like that for show. You can't, Shota." Chiyo swallowed, anger taking a backseat to a different emotion. "You kissed me like you wanted me."
He had. He did.
He was afraid to respond in fear of another faceful of ice, kneeling there in front of her, even as she hesitated.
"I know, because that's how I kissed you back."
Her fingers shook, but not from the cold.
"Do you, Aizawa? Do you want me?"
She was beautiful, and kind, and impossibly naive when it came to him.
So when he rose, sudden and sure, and kissed her, Chiyo Tsutomi was just as surprised as the first time.
His legs were weak from the cold but mostly from her too-perfect aim. They collapsed into the growing snow, entangled in one another, his hands distressed in choosing to run through her hair or pull her bare, icicle feet into his arms.
"Chiyo, it's freezing," He admonished, exasperated but close to a grin, barely able to pull his mouth from hers to get the words out. She welcomed his opening coat, burrowed farther into him.
"So hold me close," She murmured against his skin.
And he did.
Author's Note: How did she make the friggin' eyedrops!?
Merry Christmas! I'm late, I know, but it's 1:25 AM and I've been writing since 6 PM. I may or may not have carpal tunnel now. BUT this was so much fun to write, and it's so friggin' full of hints, and clues, and Easter eggs, and I'm just teeming with delight. I hope you enjoy this festive little treat.
Hisa means Everlasting, because she's an everlasting thorn in Chiyo's psyche, especially when it comes to her own self consciousness and esteem. I typically don't like animosity between female character, but this bled right out of me. I won't lie, I had a lot of experiences to draw from to make Hisa. I'll call this therapy and say both Chiyo and I grew from it. Sinaku means snark.
Yukio means Snowboy, and is a common name for near-Christmas babies. Ta da, a festive connection!
This would be set after the instructor conference and before the USJ incident. It's basically a cheesy little one-shot, and I 100% enjoyed it.
Happy holidays! I'll see you all real soon! :-)
